


it's an art

by selvish



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Fluff, M/M, Ridiculous, absolutely disgusting, art student!calum, musician!michael
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-14
Updated: 2015-04-14
Packaged: 2018-03-22 22:17:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3745399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/selvish/pseuds/selvish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You- you have clay on your hands.” He laughed breathily back. For the first time they made eye contact, and the blue haired boy lost his words again in the bright brown eyes in front of him.  They fell silent, Michael still holding onto Pretty Boy’s wrist. Eventually he let go, and nodded at him to continue.<br/>Pretty Boy blinked a few times before shaking his head and looking down.<br/>“Yeah that’s actually the uh, the problem. Could you like? Takeoffmyshirt, or something?.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	it's an art

**Author's Note:**

> this is actually inspired by two Real Dudes in my ceramics class. he was like "dude... bro can you take my shirt off for me so i dont wreck it" and there was very slow unbuttoning and hard eye contact and i was like fuck yesim gonna Write it  
> have fun

There was something about the smell of paint and faint photo developer that calmed him. Any sane human being would keep a good 20ft radius around the art building unless completely necessary because of the assault on the senses, but it overtook his brain in a comforting chaos, so he went often. 

It was around 8pm, admittedly a little too late for a walk, but his parents had been ragging on him about his major all weekend. He exhaled and shook his head, trying to return to the blank mind he had came here for on the first place.

His pale fingers traced along some of the few bare walls in the hallway, skillfully avoiding any of the art in his way. Michael hummed softly while hooding his eyes in his serene state. They opened slightly after a few minutes when he noticed a light on a few doors down. Almost the entire building had been cast in shadow thus far, and the fluorescent classroom light was hurting his eyes already. 

He hadn’t been walking too quickly, but slowed down regardless. His scuffed sneakers slid to a much softer step, so they padded sneakily along the tile instead of properly stepping. Finally he reached the door, and peered in cautiously. If it was a professor he may be in a lot of trouble. He wasn’t even a fine arts student, despite being in an art school for three years. 

The blue haired boy still fit in the school considering his looks, but he had chosen the music half of the university to set his roots. His hands always shook a little too hard to hold a pen correctly, and sculptures fell from his tight grasp as soon as he lifted it from any stable surface.

Speaking of sculpture, as he looked around the lit room he spotted lines and lines of carefully crafted pieces. Each was glazed with soft pastels or earthy tones, and Michael was struck for a moment with how elegant the carving was. He knew the people here were talented, that was evident by the paintings he saw on each walk and the music that flowed from his peers. This, however, was an unexplored realm of functional art that he had never been able to capture.  
In his shameless gawking he had forgotten to be sneaky, and startled at the gasp farther in the room.

“Hey! Hi, oh my god thank god someone is here.” A tan boy around his age chirped, smiling brightly and sighing in relief. Michael was taken aback, eying him suspiciously. His features were soft, yet his sharp jaw was probably able to carve the clay in his hand without any trouble. His eyes travelled along the boy’s arms shown off by a worn singlet reading “Never On My Mind”. He was completely entranced by the caramel coloured skin stretched over harsh muscles formed by wedging and working with hard materials. 

“Um… Hello?” The boy stuttered, now blushing under the blatant scrutiny. If his hands weren’t coated in wet clay, he probably would have covered himself shyly. The comment snapped Michael out of his embarrassing inspection, and his body coated itself in a bright pink.

“Shit- I’m sorry that was… That was super embarrassing… Yeah, hi, what are you doing here?” He squeaked nervously, tearing his gaze away from the pretty boy who somehow he had gotten closer too, and fiddled with the sleeves of his grey sweater.

“Yeah. Okay well don’t worry I’m about to beat you on the embarrassment front.” Pretty Boy chuckled while going to scratch his neck. Obviously he had forgotten the current state of his hands, and Michael darted his arm out to grab him by the wrist and pull it away from his head.

“You- you have clay on your hands.” He laughed breathily back. For the first time they made eye contact, and the blue haired boy lost his words again in the bright brown eyes in front of him. They fell silent, Michael still holding onto Pretty Boy’s wrist. Eventually he let go, and nodded at him to continue. 

Pretty Boy blinked a few times before shaking his head and looking down.

“Yeah that’s actually the uh, the problem. Could you like? Takeoffmyshirt, or something?.” He grumbled out, his pink cheeks filling with air in a scrunchy yet shy pout and blanketing his previously confident attitude.

“What?” Michael asked, tilting his head and leaning forward to hear better.  
“My hands are covered in slip and this is my favourite shirt and I can’t take it off because I don’t know if I’ll be able to properly wash it before it stains.” He says in a rush, lifting his head to look away from the ground, but not directly into Michael’s eyes. “I don’t know why I even wear it there’s never anyone here this late so usually I just go without one from the sta-”

“Dude, it’s fine.” Michael smiled softly. Seeing that the other was so uncomfortable by the situation had lightened the heavy awkwardness settled on his shoulders, and now he was able to shrug easily and roll up his sleeves. Feeling almost brave he turned so the tan boy would have to look at him.

“But since I obviously don’t have time to buy you a drink first, can I get your name?” The light teasing sparkling in his eyes showed he was joking, but the punctuating skim of teeth over his lower lip gave away that there was a hidden bit of truth.

“Calum.” The brunette breathed out, laughing as he did so. His eyes squinted to accommodate for his smile, and his shoulders rose to his jaw. Michael was taken aback for a moment before reclaiming his own grin.

“Michael.” He responded, shaking his bangs away from his forehead in order to break the cheesey staring contest going on between the two of them. This was getting ridiculous. How long had he been in here anyway? The bright haired took advantage of the lighter atmosphere to nudge his head towards Calum’s shirt and his drying hands.

“Fuck, right, thank you so much.” He groaned in annoyance as he lifted his hands and rolls his eyes at himself. Michael giggled back and took a step forward. Slowly he gathered the hem of the singlet in between his fingers and dragged it up over the boys head. Once it was off he purposely avoided looking at any of the now uncovered skin, instead taking the shirt and setting it down on the nearby counter. 

By the time he turned around Calum had his back to him, so he took the moment to appreciate the form in front of him. He was only human.

His back was lightly sculpted, to the point where while it was obvious that he worked out it wasn’t excessively. He was evenly tanned and almost glowed slightly in the cheap yellow lights provided by the school. His arms were well used, and his muscles moved easily any way he moved from spending so much time forming and wedging clay. 

Michael had leaned back as he was admiring, and didn’t even notice that Calum had turned around. By the time he had, it was too late to pretend he hadn’t been blatantly ogling the other boy, so he just shrugged in defeat. The tan boy was blushing down his neck, but aside from the flustered giggling it was clear he was proud of his body and this wasn’t the first time he had been checked out.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.” He chuckled out, winking at Michael before turning back around. He had left a piece at the wheel when the pale boy had entered, and now had to hurriedly return it to something he could work with. As he sat and pushed his pedal forward, he started gathering water in his hand to ease onto his piece. He was sliding into his working trance when Michael spoke again.

“Music student, not photography. But I appreciate you assuming that I could ever be talented in the finer arts.” He had walked forward and pulled a stool over to watch. Earlier he would have been way too nervous to invade another student’s space, but he was tired and Calum was very pretty, so here he would stay.

“You have the hands for painting.” Calum mused halfheartedly, ignoring his filter in favour of putting that effort towards re-centering his project. His previously mentioned biceps flexed slightly under the force of pushing and pulling the clay under his hands as he continued. “They’re small, but not delicate. I can imagine they’re dextrous with a fairly strong grip.”  
Only when Michael started giggling next to him did he realize how that had come out. His hands fumbled and the clay shot off the center into the wall of the wheel basin.

“Shit, okay,” He turned to look at the green eyed boy who was now struggling to breathe evenly. “No fuck you that’s not what I meant.” He was doing his best to sound angry and intimidating, but watching Michael laugh was like a kitten chasing a ball of yarn. Calum was smiling like an idiot but he pointed his finger sternly. “You are a dirty little boy.” Another snort. “I was talking about painting!”

“Sure you were.” Michael responded, playfully shoving the other away from him and back to his work. However, instead of going back to his work, Calum furrowed his brow and shoved the other boy back. He had forgotten the slip still coating his fingers and gasped at the grey smear covering Michael’s right sleeve. He looked up to his eyes with a pitiful cringe, closely resembling a puppy who had knocked something over and was waiting for a shouting.

“You’re on, dude.” Michael growled before grabbing Calum’s hand to coat his own, then slid his hand across the other’s forehead and into his bangs. The kiwi let out a yell before tackling him to the ground, letting them roll around on the ground halfheartedly making a mess of each other’s clothes and hair. 

Minutes went by before the clothed boy went limp in the other’s grasp, breathing heavily on the ground and trying to stop laughing. Once he stopped his green eyes opened to meet with deep brown eyes swallowing the fast breath and giggles leaving his mouth. Calum was smiling crookedly down at him, and moved his head down to rest his forehead against the pale skin peeking out from his skewed sweater. He giggled and whispered,

“You’re so cute, like a little kitten.” He nuzzled against the other’s neck and smiled at the blush he could feel creeping down it. Bravely he pressed a gentle kiss there and started to get up. A smaller hand grabbed him by the arm before he could fully sit up, though, and soft pink lips met his gently.

“Hey, Calum?” Michael chuckled against his mouth.

“What?” He breathed out, slightly dazed as he leaned in again. Michael dodged it and gestured with his chin towards the corner of the room.

“There’s a sink right there.”


End file.
